


Lies From My Lips

by redhoodsrobin (manatsuko)



Series: hold my body, hold my breath [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: 5 Things, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 23:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12995145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manatsuko/pseuds/redhoodsrobin
Summary: - stick to yours like honey so sweetSometimes it's hard to figure out what's a lie and what's the truth, when you've grown used to self-deception and denial. Dick always seems to know though. Because of course he does.





	Lies From My Lips

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in a JayDick writing mood don't @ me... I'm already thinking about writing a follow-up to this too OTL

 

 

  1. _I don't care_



 

"Run that last bit by me again."

"Jason", Dick sighs, exasperation bleeding through his usual calm demeanor. It's exactly the type of reaction Jason hoped for.

He knows how this will go - Dick asks for help, Jason refuses, Dick lays out all the reason Jason _should really help_ him, he refuses again. For appearance's sake, if nothing else. He can see the merit in teaming up with Nightwing for this particular mission, but that doesn't mean he wants to seem _eager_ about it.

"Richard", Jason replies silky-smooth with a carefully managed grin. Just enough to annoy Dick, not enough to actually piss him off.

"I know it isn't ideal, but it would deliver the fastest results."

"Oh, I'm well aware."

"So are you helping, or not? Because I have to say, I didn't take you for the type to care this much about faking a relationship for a week or so."

Jason rolls his eyes, though the gesture remains largely hidden behind his domino mask. "Trust me, I _don't_ care. I'll help, but you owe me one for this."

Nightwing takes a deep breath, as if he's bitten back a less-than-polite retort. A shame, really. Jason would've loved to hear an instinctive reply instead of a diplomatic one. As it stands, he only gets a promise that the necessary files will be sent to his computer, encrypted, by the end of the night.

Then Nightwing backs up and jumps off the ledge they were sitting on. Jason's eyes follow the lone figure over the rooftops until he fully disappears into Gotham's shadows once more.

Their not-relationship is off to a good start. 

 

 

  1. _I'm fine, I promise_



 

He doesn't object to sharing a bed. It's practical more than anything, to keep up their cover as best as they can. With security this tight, there's no telling which members of the staff are on the wrong payroll.

The whole bed-sharing thing only becomes a problem when his stupid, unpredictable night terrors kick in. They had decreased in frequency - but unfortunately, not in intensity - over the years, but all that meant was that it was harder to predict when they would happen.

But alright, maybe Jason _could_ have seen this coming. He had drank a bit too much, too fast, once they had made it up to their room. He needed the burn down his throat and the curl of warmth in his stomach to relax after the hectic hustle and bustle that getting checked into this ridiculously fancy resort entailed. Their first day had been an endless slew of getting their ID's checked, then their bookings, all the while being asked about the reasons for their trip.

After the first hour or so, Jason wouldn't have been surprised if they had whipped out some thumbscrews and gone for the less subtle approach of interrogation.

He sees now why Dick wanted back-up. If they went through this much trouble background-checking a newlywed couple on their honeymoon, he's not sure he wants to know what they'd put him through if he checked in as a single 'young up-and-coming entrepreneur' or the likes. Easier to fake emotional reasons than legit business trips.

Either way, it's not as if Jason was the only one in need of a distraction. Dick had looked just as fed up with the entire ordeal, and they hadn't even passed the twenty-four hour mark yet. So after they had set up their gear - in the bathroom, the place least likely to hold hidden microphones - and made a subtle first sweep of their room - four cameras in the living area, one in the kitchenette, two in the dining room, thankfully none in the bed- or bathroom, and no microphones anywhere - they called room service.

Maybe they did splurge on the food, and the wine, but wasn't that the point? If they really _were_ newlyweds, wouldn't they want the best of the best to celebrate? That's what Jason assumes most people would do.

Though regret is setting in fast now. His head is killing him.

He can't even remember what the damn nightmare was about. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd say his death was a strong contender, though there are plenty of other options to choose from. The arid desert heat that hangs over this city brings some unpleasant associations with it.

He rubs a hand over his face, and focuses on getting his breathing back under control. In and out. The easiest thing in the world.

He has to cool down.

Careful not to jostle the bed, he inches out from under the covers, and makes his way to the kitchen. He thinks about doing the _reasonable_ thing, which is taking an ice pack or a bottle of water from the fridge and going to lie down on the couch with the AC turned up.

Instead, he pulls open the door of the freezer and sits down next to it.

He moans in relief.

It isn't long before he hears footsteps approach, followed by Dick appearing in the doorway. He's trying to smooth down his hair, ruffled by sleep and sticking up in odd places. In his half-awake state, it takes him a good five seconds of staring at Jason's current whereabouts before he realizes what's going on.

Jason sneers up at him, cocking his head in challenge. Daring Dick to comment on his sorry state, or to ask him _how he feels_.

Dick does neither. He tiptoes over to the sink to fill a glass with water. When he's done, he gingerly lowers himself to the ground next to Jason and offers it to him.

Jason considers knocking the glass out of his hands, for all the good that would do them. It may be dark, but the cameras are working just fine, and a fistfight isn't exactly prime honeymoon material.

He reaches out and closes his fingers around the glass. It's cool to the touch. He runs his fingers along the edge, wiping away some of the condensation that's formed there. The drops trickle down his skin, but he can't bring himself to care.

"You should try to actually drink some of that", Dick's voice cuts through the haze in his mind. He has shuffled closer, near enough that Jason can feel the warmth emanating from his skin. Something that's all the more obvious because his other side is still pressed against the freezer.

He grunts back, "Don't tell me what to do."

There's no bite to the words. Slowly, he takes a sip, then another. Maybe that'll be enough to appease Dick and make him leave.

No such luck.

He stays besides Jason, sitting there in silence. It's nice, but it's also starting to freak Jason out. He clears his throat.

"We should go back to bed. Sitting here like this is- _Suspicious_."

Dick hums in acknowledgement. "Probably, but it's alright. They'll assume you drank too much and feel sick. Which you did, and you do."

Jason lets his head fall back against the cold metal behind him with a groan.

"No, we should go," he insists, "I'm freezing my ass off."

Dick barks out a laugh before hastily slapping a hand in front of his mouth. _Good_. There's only place for one person wallowing in self-pity in this hotel room tonight, and that person is Jason. Dick can have his turn some other time.

Jason stands up, muscles protesting under the sudden shift in both position and temperature. He sees Dick stretch as well, shirt riding up as he yawns.

"Come on," he says, clapping Jason on the shoulder, "We should still be able to get another hour of sleep. Big day tomorrow."

Jason is about to reply when Dick reaches for his hand and entwines his fingers with Jason's. It proves to be an effective way of shutting him up and confusing him at the same time. It takes a while, but his brain catches up eventually.   

Right. The cameras.

Dick doesn't let go of him until they're back in the bedroom, away from prying eyes. He doesn't waste any time getting back in bed either, expecting Jason to follow suit. Jason already knows he won't be able to fall back asleep, but his options are limited. Either pretend to _try_ , or deal with Dick's worry. Or God forbid, _pity._

He pulls up the covers and gets ready to stare at the ceiling for an hour. The lesser of two evils, and all that.

Dick turns to him, eyes too bright and _knowing_ in the dark of their room. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Ah, there's the questions. Jason sighs. "I'm fine, I promise."

It doesn't sound very convincing, even to himself. 

 

 

  1. _I don't need it_



 

"It doesn't suit you", Jason says without much preamble. It's something he's been thinking a lot during the past few days of their mission, through all their niceties and playing dumb with the rich and influential, but it's the first time he has voiced it.

Dick tilts his head slightly to the side, inquiring, "What doesn't?"

Maybe he thinks Jason meant his current outfit. It's definitely not that; the dark blue dress shirt and custom tailored pants are flattering to say the least. Jason tugs at the collar of his shirt, his fingers sliding behind the fabric to adjust his own tie.

"The air-headed bimbo act."

The corners of Dick's mouth curl up into a grin, like the statement amuses him somehow. Maybe it does. The guy's got an odd sense of humor that Jason doesn't always understand as well as he'd like.

"Bruce does it all the time."

"You're not Bruce," Jason says as he shrugs on his jacket. "Besides, I didn't say it suited him either."

"Cold, calculating businessman isn't exactly a perfect match for you either", Dick replies.

"Excuse you, I have a brilliant poker-face."

"Last month you nearly stabbed a random guy on the street because he startled you."

"Hey," Jason splutters with mock-outrage, placing a hand over his heart to complete the picture, "I was drugged at the time from that encounter with-!"

Dick pinches his arm. "It still counts."

"Sure, whatever makes you feel better about yourself, Dickiebird."

With one last look backwards to make sure everything incriminating is hidden in its proper place, they step outside. As soon as the door clicks shut behind them, Dick's entire body language changes. He relaxes his posture and angles himself more towards Jason, slowly moving into his personal space as they walk. He makes it look as if Jason is the only person worth paying attention to, and he makes it look _convincing_.

Jason does his part, bringing an arm up around Dick's waist once they leave the elevator, languidly rubbing circles into his partner's back. He prays that the thundering of his heartbeat isn't obvious enough to be sensed through the layers of fabric.

They remain silent for most of their trek through the hallways, mindful of anyone that might be following them. They halt in the foyer, as Dick steps in front of him to smooth out the lapels of Jason's stuffy jacket.

"You remember the plan?" He whispers. He's looking downwards, eyes fixed to Jason's chest. Like this, his voice is only audible to Jason - and even then he has to strain to hear it.

"Yeah, yeah," Jason grumbles back softly. He hides his lips from the security cameras by pressing a kiss into Dick's hair, holding the position a few seconds. "Chat up the nice old ladies over there, pointedly ignore any groping, get them drunk and get the info."

Dick smiles at him, though Jason sure didn't imagine the harsh prod to his side. "They're not _old_ , they're barely forty."

"Miss Robinson over there is at least fifty."

Dick doesn't dignify him with a response. Jason chances a glance over to the group of socialites they're about to join, and steels himself for the coming onslaught of bad flirting and awkward conversation.

"I'm already regretting this."

"You can still go back to our room, you know", Dick says.

"And let you face the cougars alone?" Jason grunts. "No way in hell."

"Aw, you do care", Dick coos. He pulls on Jason's lapels - _Wait, why was he still holding on to those?_ \- to make him bend down. Jason follows obediently, until Dick is able to kiss him on the cheek. He steps back with a wink. 

"For good luck."

"I don't need it", Jason protests, perhaps a bit too loudly. Dick smirks and links their arms together, heading towards their company for the night.

Jason feels lightheaded. He blames the heat.

 

 

  1. _I love you too_



"Oh honey, there you are!"

Arms slip around his shoulders from the back in a loose embrace. Jason folds his cards and looks up, picture-perfect smile in place.

It's showtime.

"Hey babe, I was wondering where you'd gone off to."

Dick straightens up, but leaves a single hand to fiddle with the collar of Jason's shirt. They'd agreed on a few small gestures of affection beforehand, though it's more to benefit Dick's role than his. All Jason has to do is sit there and pretend to enjoy the attention.

"Mister Degano was just telling me about this exhibition the resort is hosting for the week. He says there's quite a few big-name works on show."

The dealer at the table he's sitting at shuffles the deck again. Jason tracks the quick shift of cards from one place to another from the corner of his eye. He already knows this particular game is rigged, but the deceit is almost laughably obvious.

"Hmm, first I hear of it. You sure it's this week?"

"Apparently it's not open to the public," Dick explains, "Invitation-only."

Cards slide towards him, so Jason turns back to the table to look at the hand he's been dealt. This is the part where he's supposed to keep most of his attention on the game and not his _significant other_ , no matter how tempting it is to look back up. "Sounds like an expensive affair."

"Oh, it is," Their target butts into the conversation, right on cue. "Very exclusive as well."

"Too bad we won't be able to get in then", Jason shrugs dismissively. Dick clicks his tongue in response. He's laying the disappointment on thick, but it seems to do the trick. Degano takes the bait without missing a beat.

"Well, your husband told me you already made plans for the day, but you seem... _otherwise occupied_. Mind if I borrow him for a while?"

His tone implies he's aware of Jason's  - fake - history with gambling. Jason chuckles, "Be my guest. He's definitely more into that artsy stuff than I am."

Dick crinkles his nose, the slightest hint of a displeased pout playing on his lips. "I thought I told you to not call it 'that artsy stuff'."

"I don't mean anything by it, you know that," Jason pats the hand over his shoulder, moving his thumb over the skin of Dick's wrist in a soothing motion. "Go have fun, okay?"

"I'll see you at dinner then. Love you, dear."

Dick's a good actor. The statement slips light and easy from his lips, as if he had truly said it a dozen, a hundred times before today. As if it's normal for them - not just for their covers, but _them_ \- to end their conversations this way.

He says it like he _means_ it.

There is no way Jason can make his own reply sound as sincere, with the same tenderness in his voice and devotion in his gaze. It doesn't matter. His role here is the aloof and distant husband, the unaffected one, and he's got plenty of practice at that.

So he croons back an "I love you too" and tries his best to not grind his teeth together as soon as the words leave his mouth.

The hand on his shoulder squeezes softly, offering comfort Jason neither wants nor needs. He directs his attention back to the cards in front of him, easing his white-knuckled grip.

He's not going to mess up their cover because he can't keep a lid on his own stupid emotions. It's just words. Come morning they'll be back to arguing over who ate the last piece of leftover pizza. They'll have enough evidence to send this creep on his way to jail, wrapped up with a nice bow, along with his _associates_.

The sudden press of lips against his temple, chaste as it may be, blindsides him. _What the hell?_ They didn't plan _this_. He sucks in a sharp breath, certain that he's grimacing. He can only hope it's taken as a sign of disgust at his husband's touchy-feely tendencies, not the stupefied shock that it is.

Dick doubles down on the act even more, fingers lingering just too long to be casual. He can feel them trail over the side of his neck, slow and steady, with the barest hint of nails scratching up to his hairline. By the time Dick's touch disappears completely, he's laughing at something their target has said. Jason doesn't register the words.

He shivers.

It's going to be a long night.

 

 

  1. _You're the worst_



 

Dick is the first to break the silence.

"Well then, that went great."

Jason ran out of bullets a while ago, but he's tempted to chuck his empty gun at Nightwing's head to make up for that fact. He's sitting right next to him, it'd be impossible to miss.

"We nearly _died_."

"We do that every other Tuesday," Dick shrugs. He's favoring his right shoulder. Must've dislocated the left one then, or pulled a muscle. "But yes, I didn't expect them to have that many explosives on-site. It didn't show up on any of the intel we gathered," His brows knit together at the reminder. "Maybe if I'd-"

"Oh shut up already," He cuts off Dick's self-blaming monologue before it takes off. "It's not your fault, I couldn't tell either." And really, out of the two of them, _Jason_ is the one most paranoid about getting blown up. If anyone should have spotted the bombs, it was him.

"I should've been able to figure that something was wrong, at least."

"Are you saying _you_ could have, but I couldn't? Are you calling me dumb? Is that it?" From this angle it's hard to tell, but Jason's fairly certain Dick's sudden bout of shaking is due to suppressed laughter. "Way to kick a guy while he's down, N."

"Feel free to get up whenever," And yep, he's definitely laughing. "Your injuries are minimal at best."

"Then why am I lying down here in the first place, huh?" Jason retorts. "Riddle me that, Boy Wonder."

"Because you like being overdramatic."

Jason guffaws at the blunt comeback. It's true, but most people wouldn't throw the accusation in his face like that.

"God, you're such an asshole."

"A real dick, right?" Dick grins down at him. Jason crosses his arms over his head with a groan.

"You're unbelievable. Fucking hell. That was _terrible_."

Dick wrestles his arms away from his face, though Jason only puts in the bare minimum of effort into keeping them there.

"Come now, it wasn't that bad, right?"

The tired lines around Dick's eyes crinkle when he smiles. He looks exhausted, and fond, and the most genuinely happy Jason has seen him all week.

He pushes himself upright, hooks a hand behind Dick's neck, and before he can talk himself out of it, leans forward to kiss him. It's _terrifying_ , the split second before Dick reciprocates. His mind throws a dozen worst-case scenarios at him where he has read the signs wrong and Dick pushes him away in disgust. Stupid, _stupid, st u p i_ -

But the onset of panic doesn't last long. Like a switch has been flipped, Dick goes from stillness to motion; he swings a leg over both of Jason's so he's straddling him, hands coming up to cradle Jason's face closer. He bites Jason's lip and soothes the marks he leaves with his tongue, and then Jason is _gone_.

Later, he won't remember when he'd lowered his arms around Dick's waist, or how he'd gotten those damn hickeys right under his jaw, in a place impossible to hide. He loses time until the next thing he's aware of is Dick in his lap, breathless, pressing their foreheads together.

His chest feels tight, too small and too large all at once. He has no idea how to proceed, though Dick seems more than happy to stay like this.

So Jason does nothing but tighten his grip and lower his head to Dick's - uninjured - shoulder, muttering, "You're the worst, honestly."

Dick snorts in disbelief, but holds onto him anyway. And then kisses him again.

In hindsight, the mission _did_ end pretty great.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of playing two truths and a lie, we're playing 'Jason can't tell which ones are the lies, but it's definitely more than one'
> 
> I'm kinda worried I made one - or both - of them a bit ooc though, so any feedback on that would be appreciated! (*'▽')
> 
> (Bonus bit of Dick POV info: Dick was definitely having a bit of a mental shut-down when Jason kissed his hair in point three. The kiss on the cheek was half about revenge for that, half genuine flirting)
> 
> My Tumblr (DC/Marvel sideblog): [ [redhoodsrobin] ](https://redhoodsrobin.tumblr.com)  
> My Twitter: [ [evexe_n] ](https://twitter.com/evexe_n)


End file.
